


Frustration

by irishlullaby13



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Crack, Naughty language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 12:42:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6052060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishlullaby13/pseuds/irishlullaby13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small continuation of the fic "<a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6043213">Closer</a>".  Abbie finds a place to unload her frustrations about her situation with Crane.</p>
<p>“Hi... first timer.  My name is... Grace.”  there was a quiet applause and a chorus of 'welcome Grace's.  “I just want to say that when I first heard about this group I thought it was really weird...."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frustration

**Author's Note:**

> To better explain how all the citizens of Sleepy Hollow are in on the bet: some of the businesses, families, neighbourhoods, church groups, pooled in together to make bets, they in turn got others involved... and before long all of Sleepy Hollow was in on it. There is actually a faction at the SH branch of the fbi (part of them are team "hell yeah its gonna happen" the other part are team "no because... Danny.") Pretty much all of Westchester County Sheriffs Department is team "hell yeah" with the exception of a few who solitarily put in for "nope."
> 
> The entire jewellery shop was team hell yeah. The conflict has gotten so out of hand that the Starbucks' had to seperate the two factions. So at one of the Starbucks you have the hell yeahs and at the other you have the hell nos. Its actually now part of their interview process to ask which team they are on so they can place them at the right Starbucks. Abbie and crane frequent the hell yeah Starbucks because, well, Abbie doesn't need the negativity of the team hell no starbucks in her life (unless shes running late and HAS to stop there alone to grab her morning coffee).
> 
> There is actually also a small support group that meets twice a month for those who get frustrated that it hasnt happened yet. They exchange stories of times they witnessed it almost happening and crying because it didnt. They even close out the meetings was probably inspired by one of Crane's wedding vow-esque speeches and have weekly prayer circles to show their support for Abbie

_“I just wish there was someone I could talk to about this. I mean, no offence, but some of the things I need to get off my chest that I don't want to put on you.”_

_“You could always attend one of the support groups.”_

_“A say what now? They've got a support group?”_

_“Yeah, they meet twice a month: the first Tuesday and the third Thursday of every month. It's been going on for a while now. They get together, talk about how they saw one of the moments and... talk about how frustrated it made them. It's actually a very wonderful and nurturing environment. A little weird at first but... good.”_

_She thought a long moment. “Where do they meet?”_

  
#  


“Welcome to the February meeting of the 'Team Hell Yeah' Support Group,” the woman in the middle of the circle said softly. “I see a few new faces, which is always wonderful. Just let me start off by telling you all... you are not alone in your frustration. We've all bore witness to a moment which we have all wanted to happen only have it snatched away from us. We've all suffered victimization of our hearts and souls at the hands of Ichabod Crane and his blatant refusal to tell the beautiful and quite frankly, entirely too patient with his bullshit, Abigail Mills.

“And just as we do with every meeting, let's first start with a prayer for Miss Mills. To give her strength in these troubling times.”

One of the new faces in the group looked around in confusion as the woman led them in prayer. The look on her face clearly asked, “Is this for real?” but she bowed her head to join them anyway.

The leader of the group smiled sweetly. “Now, lets give ourselves a small hand for reaching out for help in dealing with our troubles.” The group softly clapped. “Wonderful! Now, I would like to inform you all that he church is currently looking to start a _third_ support group on Mondays, since there has been an flux of people needing our support but Tuesdays or Thursdays was not good for them. If you or someone you know might be interested, the new group will be starting the second Monday of March at 630pm. And of course there is always our phone support and individual consultations if you can't make one of the group meetings.”

The young woman that had been confused about the prayer gawked slightly. _A third_ group meeting? Phone support? _Individual consultations_?

“We have three new faces with us this week. Ummm... Marsha. Why don't you introduce yourself and share with us.”

A mousy young woman stood up. She looked like she had been crying. “Hi, my name is Marsha... This is my first time here and I was present at the jewellery store--” there was a collective gasp because they had heard various tales of the jewellery store incident. “I was inspecting a ring for the mayor's wife at the time. I was, maybe, three feet away from where it happened.” 

There was a low murmur amongst the members. So far this was the closest anyone had been to one of the moments. They were also still secretly holding out one day the jeweller himself would attend, but they hadn't been so lucky yet.

Marsha spilled her tale of dropping the mayor's wife's ring the moment the shop fell silent. How both her and the mayor's wife had clung to each other's hands as they watched the events unfold. “You know how in the Book of Revelation it talks about how there was silence in the space of half an hour?” Everyone murmured and nodded, except the one young woman who looked nervous at he comment. “I swear it was so quiet in the shop that I thought that was happening. And then... that limey son of a bitch lost his damn nerve. I had a pair of inspection tweezers in my hand at the time. The mayor's wife had to hold my wrists down on the display table to keep me from jumping over the case and stabbing him in the throat with them.

“And sometimes I just... I just wonder if... if it's ever going to happen. And if it does... I swear all those in attendance will die of elation.” She started crying as she closed out her tale, “At this point, I don't even care about the bets. I just want them together. They're just so beautiful it hurts.”

The group gave her a soft clap as she reclaimed her seat. The leader of the group nodded. “Bless you for sharing with us Marsha. Just remember, everyone, we've _all_ wanted to do severe bodily harm to Mister Crane. The important thing is, none of us have done so yet. Because remember, if we were to inadvertently do something to kill him, it won't ever happen.”

“On the plus side,” one of the regulars chimed in. “We'd probably get to slammed into a wall and arrested by Abbie.” There was a murmur of approval from most of the group on that subject. 

“Okay... moving on... What's your name sweetheart you don't have a name on your tag,” the leader said.

The young woman stood and shifted nervously from foot to foot. She was a petite thing wearing a purple track suit, horn-rim glasses, and her curly hair fixed into two low hanging ponytails. She waved nervously. “Hi... first timer. My name is... Grace.” there was a quiet applause and a chorus of 'welcome Grace's. “I just want to say that when I first heard about this group I thought it was really weird. But, I honestly see where y'all are coming from. And y'all may have saw some of the public instances... but they are nothing compared to the ones I've seen.

“I've seen some that there were maybe only one or two people there. I lived through... _the first one_. I've lived through the most recent one. And... I've seen all the ones in between.”

The leader of the group tilted her head. “Wait a minute... _you're_ Abbie Mills.” 

The young woman paused, mouth hanging open as a collective gasp rounded the room. Suddenly every eye was fixed on her. Abbie Mills smiled hesitantly then drew in a deep breath as she removed the costume glasses. “Okay, yeah. I am Abbie Mills. And while I can understand why y'all are frustrated... imagine how frustrated I am. I currently live with the guy. So, imagine if you will, waking up from a wet dream about him, going down stairs, and before you have even had your first cup of coffee... he's asking if you slept well, _while_ he is handing you your first cup and it is made _just the way you like it_ and it is in your favourite mug... and get this... you two are so comfortable with each other... you don't mind that he takes a tiny sip before giving it to you to make sure it's not too hot. Because he wants to make sure it's perfect.”

The other members of the group had scurried out of their seats during her lead-in and collected on the floor in front of her like a group of eager children at story time. They listened with wild-eyed wonder as she spilled out her frustrations.

“And sometimes the fact he's a _gentleman_ is just... urgh. Okay, picture this... hard day of working out on the field... tracking informants and want-not... feet are aching so he wants to be a good pal and rub my feet.” Abbie fanned herself. “I mean, y'all have seen those hands. They're like... huge. So he's done with my feet in no time. And me, being the masochist I am, ask him to rub my legs... you know, just below the knee because I know he's got this 'Oh mustn't be indecent' mentality.” The group chuckled at her attempt to mimic his accent and mannerisms. “I'm already sprawled out on the sofa in my bed clothes, he's between my legs working on the second calve. We're both breathing kinda heavy at that point because—eh heh— _it stopped being about being a good pal twenty minutes ago_.” 

Most of the ladies and a couple of the men fanned themselves. Abbie tugged on the neck of her top and let out a puff of breath. She unzipped the track suit top and took it off. It was getting to damn hot to be wearing a coat.

“What happened?” one of the ladies asked breathlessly.

Abbie held up one hand, fingers splayed out. “Our eyes met... and that big ass hand of his--” She moved her hand to indicate a downward progression of his hand. “--it just went _right past_ my knee. I knew where it was heading... I was griping the sofa like there's no tomorrow because _god dammit_ I was almost there. And in just a couple more inches I would _be_ there. I was thinking 'Oh dear god, this is how it's gonna happen... no words... no nothing... he is just going to... _fuck me_ '. Of course I have absolutely no objections to that...” She balled up a fist with frustration and tensely finished, “My goddamn phone rings.”

The group gave a collective chorus of 'goddammit's and 'son of a bitch'es.

“He shot up stairs... I answered my phone and I told my sister I was going to choke her when I saw her again.”

  
#  


“And he just looked me in the eyes... after that... beautiful, beautiful speech... I mean, damn, he whispers 'Abbie'. _My name_ y'all. He never calls me by my name--” As if on cue a few of the members playfully chimed 'lieutenant' in that quirky way Crane always used it. Abbie grinned brightly and nodded. “And that mother fucking jeweller, trying to do that whole 'connecting with your customer' shit said something about... fucking... something like 'that's beautiful Mister Crane'. And that's when God said, 'Not today Grace Abigail Mills. Not today'.”

“So it was the Jim's fault?!” Marsha yelped. “That son of a bitch.”

  
#  


“I mean, I had _just_ escaped hell--” Abbie stopped a moment. “ _It felt like_ I had just escaped Hell. And he goes and does that shit? I wanted to choke him. And you know, FBI training, I know how to choke his ass so he only passes out.”

“Wait, you two just sit around flirting while playing chess?” someone asked. Abbie nodded.

“And most of the time I win,” Abbie said smugly.

  
#  


“All I'm saying is... we've gone from him just proclaiming 'Grace Abigail Mills... I choose to forge my fate with you' to full blow speeches that sound like wedding vows,” Abbie sighed. “I just keep asking myself _when... when_ is he just going to say it? I know I can't sit around waiting forever. But... dammit. I want to. I want to wait forever if that's what it takes. There is nothing that says I have to get impatient and just... give up. There's nothing forcing me to just move on. I just feel like since he's the person I know fate brought into my life to... we balance each other. We... If it was anyone else, I wouldn't want to wait. Because the _bond_... it wouldn't be there like it is with him.”

The meeting had gone over two hours thus far but no one seemed to care. They had hung on to every word Abbie had said as she spilled her heart out and would gladly listen for another hour.

“Why don't you say something to him?” someone suggested.

Abbie snorted. “Mostly because if I was the one to say something it would invalidate the bets. He has to be the one. Sorry.” It wasn't the complete truth. Truth was, she _wanted_ him to be the one to say it first. She wanted to revel in the elation that it had finally happened. “Thank you guys for listening. It really helped getting all this off my chest.”

“No, thank _you_ , Abbie, for sharing,” the leader of the group said, dabbing her eyes with her shirt sleeve. She swallowed hard with emotion. “I think what we all need to take from this is...” she burst into tears.

  
#  


Abbie walked into the house. She heard a loud rustle from the living room and within seconds Ichabod was standing there, concern on his face. “I take it your... _walk_ was enjoyable?” She nodded. He let out a sigh of relief. A smile appeared and he stepped forward to take her hand and guided her to the kitchen. “I took the liberty of ordering your favourite dish from the Chinese delivery in anticipation of your return.”

He pulled out a chair from the table and only released her hand once she was seated. “Well thank you,” Abbie said, watching him scurry to the microwave to remove the container. He retrieved flatware from one of the drawers and brought it all over to the table.

“It is still warm if you wish to start while I get you a drink.”

Abbie closed her eyes and drew in a breath before nodding. She opened the container and dug in while he was a whirlwind of activity on the other side of the kitchen. It had felt good talking to the support group and it had certainly made their day too. The fact they had closed out with a short speech that sounded like something Crane would say had actually brought a tear to her eye. Of course that could be because they were raising their Styrofoam coffee cups in her direction at the time.

She glanced toward Crane. He was holding up a glass staring at the ice inside of it speculatively. He gave the glass a small shake until one of the cubes shifted—making sure it was exactly half full of ice, she noted. A few seconds later she had a glass of lemonade next to her carton. “Thanks,” she said quietly.

“I was concerned when you were gone beyond your customary hour,” Ichabod said, sliding into the seat next to her. “Miss Jenny assured me that you were fine. I had contacted her when I could not reach you on your mobile device.” His fingers darted out to lightly touch the hand she wasn't eating with. After a moment he was cradling her hand in both of his. “Lieutenant... There is something I have long been meaning to say to you.”

Abbie lowered her fork to the table and shifted in her seat so she could look at her fellow witness. She swallowed what was in her mouth and eyed him expectantly. “And what might that be?” she asked quietly.

“You and I are only in the second of seven tribulations yet our bond as already proven to--” his voice trailed off and he moved his lips as though there were words waiting to come out yet he couldn't vocalize them. 

_Oh God_ , Abbie thought. She had a feeling she was going to have to give Susan, the leader of the support group, a call shortly. At least now she knew it existed and anytime Ichabod backed out of admitting his feelings she would be a willing ear to talk to.

Abbie felt her face warm as she waited for him to continue. He sighed with frustration. And then, much to Abbie's surprise, instead of continuing on with whatever he had been carefully planning to say in his head... Ichabod shook his head to clear it. “Just go with it, Ichabod,” he whispered, barely loud of enough for her to hear it.

He reached up and brushed the back of his fingers along her cheek. His hands cradled her head and his mouth came down on hers. He must have sensed her surprise at the unexpected turn of events. His hands fell away and he began to pull back. She caught a flash of terrified regret in his eyes.

“Oh no you don't,” Abbie muttered and grabbed two fists full of his hair to drag him back in. his arms wrapped around her, hauling her against him. Lips parted and tongues explored, teeth playfully nipped. Finally they broke away because, well, breathing was a good thing for them to do. Instead of pulling completely away they rested their foreheads against each other. Abbie grinned widely. “You wanted to say something?”

His eyes danced with delight when he mirrored her smile. “I love you, Grace Abigail Mills.”

  
#  


In the early hours of the morning, by the light of her bedside lamp, Abbie finished editing a picture she had just snapped. Of her with her head on Ichabod's arm and him fast asleep cuddled up behind her. She attached it to a new number she had added the night before.

 _Thx for the love and support, Susan! Xoxo, Abbie_ she typed in before hitting send and setting her phone on the night stand.

A few hours later, all she received in response was a bunch of intelligible letters and emojiis followed by several lines of exclamation points.

  
#  


“Have you noticed people acting... odd today?” Ichabod asked as he slid into the seat across from Abbie. He held up a finger and tested her coffee, grimacing at the taste before handing it over to her. Much to her surprise he had a couple slices of cheese cake as well.

“How so?” Abbie asked. She glanced toward the counter and the baristas gave her two thumbs up with big grins on their faces. She hid a smile by taking a drink of her coffee.

“Aside from the vast amounts of individuals slapping myself on the back and proclaiming that they 'knew' I 'had it' in me. When I approached the counter just now, they had our coffees already prepared and said they were on the house. Then the gentleman in line behind me insisted upon purchasing _cheesecake_ for myself and you to enjoy with our coffees.”

Abbie set down her coffee. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth to keep from grinning like a jackass. “You don't say? That _is_ kind of odd.” She tucked into to her slice of cheesecake. After a moment she realized Ichabod was staring at her mouth. “What?”

He reached over and wiped at the corner of her mouth with his fingertip. His eyes glimmered mischievously as he started to pull his hand away. Abbie grabbed his wrist and pulled the finger to her mouth to reclaim the small bit of cheesecake he had tried to steal.

“You have your own slice. That was part of mine,” Abbie teased. She startled when there was the sound of glass hitting the floor behind the counter. One of the baristas was clutching her heart and holding onto the counter for support as she staggered her way to a chair in the cooking nook. Abbie cleared her throat. “Maybe we should go back to the house...”

Ichabod's eyes went back to her mouth. His brows arched with interest when she moistened her lips “I concur...”


End file.
